


No Fate Worse Than Death

by mogwai_do



Series: The Shadow of Death [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogwai_do/pseuds/mogwai_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos talks to Mac in the aftermath of a Dark Quickening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fate Worse Than Death

Awareness returned with the kind of speed that should have been a shock to the system, but it wasn't. He remembered waking like this a thousand times before. He was cold and wet from the persistent rain, a few small cuts were in the process of healing, another Immortal hovered anxiously nearby, and he felt it all distinctly, each sensation perfectly clear.

"Methos? Are you alright?" There was a hesitance in the Highlander's voice that the Ancient found he didn't care for. Did the man really think Methos would choose a fight he didn't know how to win?

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, "I told you I would be." It didn't work; he could see the questions crowding behind the dark eyes and he hadn't the patience to answer them. He wanted - needed - time and peace, not an inquisition.

"But Methos, I felt it when you took his head, it didn't feel... right."

Methos wasn't quite able to rein back the response that leapt to his lips. "It was a Dark Quickening, MacLeod, how right should it have felt?" he snapped.

He had to give the man credit for courage, or maybe it was just sheer stupidity, "But when I... Kol'Tec... It wasn't anything like that!"

Methos could feel his expression twist into something close to a sneer, but he doubted the Highlander could see it in the darkness of the alley. "And how was that, MacLeod?"

Whether he could see Methos' face or not, he could certainly hear the tone of his voice and when MacLeod spoke again there was a new hesitation in the words. "It felt... cold... dark... hungry."

Methos chuckled and knew it was an ugly sound, but he couldn't help it, nor did he particularly want to. The Highlander had forced him into this situation and it was only fair that he learn a few things from it by way of thanks.

"It was all that, MacLeod. _I_ was all that." Methos didn't wait for a response as he got to his feet and wiped his sword on his former opponent's clothes. When the Highlander still failed to respond Methos turned to look at him, eyes narrowing at the vague expression of horror on his friend's face. "What?" he demanded, angry and mocking at once, "You think I could cure a Dark Quickening with the _good_ in me? We all saw how well that worked for you and Kol'Tec, didn't we Mac?" He sheathed his sword with a quick, violent motion and lowered his voice, knowing that he had the Highlander's undivided attention now. "Barring divine intervention, the only way to deal with that bastard's Quickening was by being a bigger bastard, and believe me MacLeod, I can be."

Methos watched with no small satisfaction as the Highlander visibly recoiled from those last hissed words. A final parting shot should ensure that he wasn't followed when he left tonight, left Paris, left France, left the whole damned continent.

"Pity the fool who ever succeeds in taking _my_ head, Highlander." The bitterness dripped from his words like venom, like the drip of rainwater from the broken fire escape, like the sharp splash of his boots in the puddles as Methos turned on his heel and began to walk. "There is no fate worse than Death."

 

FIN


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